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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631652">Future Rewrote</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch1ps0h0y/pseuds/ch1ps0h0y'>ch1ps0h0y</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Future, Future Fic, Gen, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:47:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch1ps0h0y/pseuds/ch1ps0h0y</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst the Ironworks were busy building their time machine, others worked hard to deliver the star from the Eighth Umbral Calamity in more practical ways.</p><p>(A canon-adjacent ficlet) (SPOILERS FOR SHADOWBRINGERS)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Future Rewrote</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rulala was at her wit's end.</p><p>Staring intently at a flask of alchemical reagent being heated by a burner, she felt every ilm the bags beneath her eyes as she hoped, prayed, begged each and every one of the Twelve that tonight would grant the miracle which saved them.</p><p>Her equipment was set up on a table propped up by at least three books, salvaged and repaired as best they could from the ruins of the old Garlean castrum. It was an old medical lab, she suspected. They had needed to clear over a hundred years of growth strangling the stainless steel benchtops in order to reclaim the space, but now that they had, the mouldering greenery was an ever-present reminder of the desperate times they lived in. No-one ever had ever thought they would live to see a second calamity in their lifetime, but the Eighth Umbral Calamity had come upon them almost as suddenly as the Seventh. This time, however, there was no Warrior of Light to lead them out of it.</p><p>The Warrior of Light was dead, like all the rest. But of course they were, she thought to herself bitterly. Putting themselves constantly on the front line as they had, it wasn't a question of IF but WHEN they would succumb to Black Rose.</p><p>She and the others had been lucky to come across this lab several moons ago. It had taken some work to get it all working again, but those few disillusioned Ironworks employees who had joined them demonstrated their own brilliance in repairing old Garlean tech, bringing to life first the medbay, then a decontamination chamber. Finding a cure, she had heard them claim over evening rations, was far more likely than the current leaders' mad time travel scheme.</p><p>Imagine that! Time travel - and to think the Ironworks had once prided themselves on delivering 'freedom through technology'. What freedom was there to be found in travelling back to the past? What was done had been done - if you were lucky enough to survive then you took it as a hard lesson learnt and moved on. Not all hope had been lost yet. Not all life either.</p><p>Shaking her head, she switched off the burner and examined the tiny vial of liquid left behind. The problem with finding a cure for Black Rose, unfortunately, was that there was no good way to test it beyond sending a living creature out to an infected region and hoping for the best. Staring grimly at the glass cage of rats they bred and kept expressly for the purpose of testing, she dropped her gaze once more to the vial and heaved a sigh.</p><p>"I'm sorry," she whispered.</p><p>After dosing it, Rulala headed out to pass the rat (one of several) on to one of their scavengers in a small cage. They, in turn, brought back news of the last batch she had sent out with them.</p><p>"All dead." They passed her back the empty cage and Rulala fought back another wave of grief.</p><p>"My thanks anyway," she said, offering the man a forced smile. They waved it off and she retreated inside to mourn yet another fruitless loss of life.</p><p>"Come on, Rulala," she muttered, slapping her cheeks. The sting invigorated her and she held her head high as she marched back over to the bench to begin her experiments anew.</p><p>But before she could reach the table, the ground suddenly shook. She stumbled and fell on to her hands and knees as a deep and distant roar echoed from across Silvertear Lake. Cupboards with loose doors swung open and their contents shattered upon the floor, as the experiment she had been working on but moments ago followed suit. Rulala took a few moments to stare in dismay at the mess - resources were scarce; the means to produce more rarer still - before she picked herself up and dashed once more for the door leading outside. She was joined by several of her fellow researchers and together they gaped at the massive wyrm emerging out of the lake.</p><p>In their collective shock, it took a while for someone to point out the obvious.</p><p>"Wait, where'd the Tower go?!"</p><p>She spun around and looked to the sky. Sure enough, the crystalline spire was gone. The landscape felt naked without it. It had been a constant fixture in a world of turmoil. Did that mean--</p><p>Did that mean the Ironworks had actually succeeded?</p><p>She bit her lip, watching the Great Wyrm Midgardsormr bend his head towards those gathered down by the shore of Silvertear. She ought to be happy. She ought to be overjoyed. This meant that their future would be saved. And yet...</p><p>They were still here. They were all still here. None of them were vanishing. The land yet remained desolate, and Black Rose lingered out there, waiting to prey upon the last of them.</p><p>Just as she had suspected, she thought with a tired shake of her head. In the end, the future was not something one could rewrite. The future was what those in the present made of it.</p><p>And now mayhap those fools down there would finally help in crafting it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was dissatisfied with the final short story released for FFXIV. So I wrote something that felt more appropriate.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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